Rajah's Curse

Chapter 54: No

I stared at the spot where Jasmine had...

No.

This couldn't be happening.

It couldn't be-

"Come back here, street rat!"

"Ack!"

Not Jasmine.

"Who was that? And what's going on here?"

Still not Jasmine.

"Your Highness!"

Jasmine was...

She was...

"...tell me where my daughter is and I'll ask her."

I couldn't.

How was I supposed to-

"Disappeared! What do you mean she disappeared!"

One moment she had been right in front of me and then...

And then...

I let out a wordless moan.

How could I let this happen? I had promised to protect her. I had promised to marry her. I was supposed to love and cherish her and instead I had...

Durga protect...no...

Protect her!

Please.

Please.

Protect her.

I'll do anything.

Anything you want.

Just take me instead.

My trembling hands dug themselves into the black sand...into Jasmine's...no.

No, please!

Take me instead!

Take me!

I clutched the sand between my fingers, willing Durga and the rest of the gods to hear me because my raw throat couldn't form a single word to make my case aloud.

It was useless.

I was...

Useless.

Let's face it, Ri-Ren:

Nobody in their right mind needs or wants you around anymore.

No. Jasmine, she needs me. She loves...

I am sorry, Ren.

Love cannot protect you from your mistakes.

You will simply have to settle for a lesser life.

But Jasmine...

Stop disgracing yourself with protests, Alagan.

Or have you already forgotten your lessons?

I hadn't. I would never...

It doesn't matter. It never did.

Do not deny the truth because it is inconvenient.

You will have to leave and never come back.

You have failed us all.

Ri-Ren.

Alagan.

Ren.

"Dhiren!"

Two hands gripped my shoulders tightly.

Jasmine?

I blinked back tears and tried to focus on the blurry face in front of me.

It wasn't Jasmine.

"Heaven's milk, how long have you been...actually never mind that. I need to talk to you," the sultan said. "Since you're the only other person who is somewhat aware of all the magic around here and my last available witness, I need your help to uncover what happened to my daughter."

What happened?

To his daughter?

Jasmine was his daughter and she...

I closed my eyes and failed to stop another bout of tears.

I had failed her.

I had failed everyone.

This was all my fault.

Because of me, Jasmine was...

Dead, Ri-Ren. Thanks to you and your-

"Dhiren!" the sultan snapped, gripping my shoulders hard again.

I blinked up at him.

"Pay attention, boy! I don't want to have to repeat myself for a fourth time, alright? Nod if you understand."

I nodded.

"Good, now, as I was saying, though it's true that I've made my share of questionable wishes in my time, I was never fool enough to ask for a child."

I just stared at him.

"In other words, you silly boy, my daughter isn't dead...at least not yet. She's just missing."

What? Missing?

Who had told him that lie?

I had seen her...

I had seen...

"Focus, Dhiren!" the sultan said, giving me a shake. "I'm sorry no one explained the situation to you before. I did try, but I was more than a little preoccupied with getting a handle on the situation myself. Then that peasant boy escaped and now...well...it's a rather large tangle, so imagine my surprise when I came back here and found that something was actually where I left it! Marvelous that you stayed here, though quite perplexing in its way. But no matter, one thing is clear."

It was?

"Dhiren, my boy," the sultan said with a familiar gleam in his eyes, "we have a mystery to solve."

Those words brought back good memories, memories of Jasmine, of her smile and excitement.

I opened my mouth to agree with her father who looked so much like her in this moment, but instead of words, a sob escaped me.

I put a hand to my mouth.

Suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must appear to the sultan, I tried to wipe my tears and snot away with my other hand. I was a prince of Mujulaain. I should not be showing such weakness while in the presence of my future father-in...

But he would never be...

Durga-

The sultan stuffed something into my right hand, saying, "I don't have a tissue on me, but you can use this."

I glanced down. The 'this' the sultan referred to was his hat.

If I hadn't been in such a state, I might have laughed. Why didn't he have a handkerchief like a normal person? Who gave up their expensive bejeweled turban so that a nearly fully trained Mujulaai prince could cry like an undisciplined child?

It really was ridiculous. Not worth crying about at all.

I swallowed the hot lump in my throat and started to wipe my face, hoping that the turban would do its new, highly irregular, job well.

"There's a good lad," Sultan Hamed said, patting me encouragingly, "Take a moment to collect yourself, and then when you're ready, we'll begin with the rather simple but elusive question of:

Where is my lamp?"